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Fading From Existence
Every night before, she sat in her room, writing in her diary. About how awesome she had been that day, and about how her day went. But the last part of each entry were the same four sentences: I have been lost so far in depression, I can't feel it at all most of the time. I want a way out of this, but I think I've fallen too far to be saved. I've been trapped for four years now, and I can feel the last of my emotions fading away. In a year's time, they'll all be gone, even my rage. It didn't hurt though. Not very much, at least. Oh, no. Too much of her emotion had slipped away for her to feel it. When she was five, she had extreme depression. No one knew about it, though. She had been an excellent liar, even at that young age. She had to be, because she didn't want anyone to worry about her. Day after day, she pretended to be okay, even though she wasn't at all. Three years later, she had fallen too far. She thought she could control it, but she couldn't. She had gone so far past any level of depression that almost nothing could even make her sad anymore. Reading about murders and terrorists made her laugh, she found killing off fictional characters very amusing, and she nearly suffocated while reading Where the Red Fern Grows and Old Yeller because she laughed so hard she had a severe asthma attack. The only things that could make her cry were a song called "Einsamkeit" and reading about the downfall of Prussia. She just couldn't feel sad or mentally hurt, much less be able to cry about something and not be exaggerating or covering up her emotionlessness. She could feel all the emotion beginning to fade from her heart and from existence the day the burden of her depression was "lifted" from her. It had never truly lifted, though. It was crushing her more than ever, she just didn't feel sad. She had to hold onto the last of her emotions though. She knew what fate would be utterly inevetable if she didn't at least try to keep her feelings and fight to escape... Forever in captivity, forever in prison, forever without purpose, forever without worth, forever a genuine psychopath, forever in Hell. In about a year's time, if she didn't continue fighting against this, she knew how she would definitely have to live. She would have to act sad so others wouldn't get suspicious, she would have to cry to hide her emotionless side, she would have to smile because she usually did now, she would have to write because it was expected of her and others seemed to enjoy her writing, she would have to keep watching anime so her vati wouldn't think anything was wrong, and she would have to keep living because a failed attempt at suicide was a risk she wasn't willing to take. Right then, she could still feel. She could still care about her friends. She didn't want to lose them, and she couldn't care about them if she was heartless. She couldn't care enough to help them out if she was heartless. That was he main spark of motivation. She had to keep going, keep fighting, for them, just in case something bad happened and they needed her, the her with feelings.